(I work in the lingerie department of a large department store. A man and his wife walk in. The wife goes to look at our clearance racks, while her husband comes up to me.)

Man: “What bra size do you think I am?”

(The man attempts to puff out his chest, which amounts to little as he is flat-chested. I’m kind of taken aback, but I go with it.)

Me: “I’m not sure.”

Man: “Well, you measure people, right? Measure me!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t know if that’s—”

Man: “Come on! Measure me!”

(I grab my measuring tape and ask him to hold his arms up. He kind of dances around a bit, but I ignore him. I go to wrap the tape around his chest, which is a little awkward since I basically have to hug him.)

Me: “You’re a 42 band size—”

(Suddenly, the man leans in to kiss me. I jump way back.)

Me: “Woah! Personal bubble!”

(By now, his wife has returned. The man tries to explain.)

Man:*to his wife* “It’s her fault! She’s giving me a look!”

(The man and his wife leave soon after, but not before his wife comes and gives me a quick apology for her husband’s behavior!)